The healing waters steamed around Reyn like morning mist over a battlefield, which was probably not the comparison the Temple healers had intended when they'd recommended the bath. According to them, the mineral-rich waters would "restore balance to body and spirit," which seemed to be temple-speak for "sit still and stop asking about Venn every ten minutes."
Reyn breathed deeply, feeling the heat seep into muscles still recovering from Rivier. The Frenzy had taken more than she'd anticipated. Not just the physical exhaustion, though that had been considerable, but the mental echoes. She could still taste copper that wasn't there, still feel the phantom weight of violence in her hands.
Control defines the warrior, she recited internally, working through her inner self as every Barbarian was taught before they were trusted with the secrets of the Rage. How else could one handle one of the most primal aspects of a creature, if one couldn’t handle one self?
Most people would either succumb to rage, or suppress it entirely. Some managed to live with it.
Bormecian Barbarians embraced it. Became one with it.
In Rivier, Reyn had lost control of the Rage. It wasn’t entirely uncommon. In fact, Reyn was rather unique in that she rarely lost herself to the Rage. But when she did, she became someone else entirely.
The water helped. In Bormecia, communal bathing was as natural as communal eating. Bodies were bodies, tools to be maintained and respected. Sometimes admired, the way one would admire a gorgeous vista or a spectacular waterfall. The Western obsession with covering every inch of skin had puzzled her until Rast explained it had something to do with shame and property and belief that seemed too restrictive for Reyn. Even now, she didn't quite understand why anyone would be ashamed of their own knees.
She let her mind drift deeper, examining the Rage like a smith checking a blade for flaws. The Frenzy had left cracks, places where control had completely failed. Reyn, as most Barbarians, rarely dwelled in the past, unless there was a lesson to be learned. However, she couldn’t help but think about what could’ve happened if the people of Rivier hadn’t run when the fights started.
A Full Frenzy was unstoppable, and it required blood. It didn’t care whose, and it was all but impossible to steer it toward a specific target.
If’s and maybe's does not move us forward, Reyn thought. Part of the process of the Pilgrimage was after all a way of testing the Rage under unforeseen circumstances , and to learn how to control it and use it effectively at the right time and place. True Barbarians would therefore show some restraint with a Full Frenzy, although Reyn knew of None who could control it completely.
"Oh good, you're already in the healing bath," Jarek's voice shattered her meditation like a rock through glass. "Mind if I join? My feet are killing me. Turns out leather boots aren't designed for someone with one less toe than most."
Reyn opened one eye. Jarek stood at the edge of the bath, already removing his shirt.
"The healers said this was reserved for—"
"Oh, I told them I had severe memory fatigue," Jarek said, now working on his boots. "Apparently that's a recognized condition here. Something about adventuring stress."
He stripped with the same matter-of-fact approach he brought to just about anything, folding each piece of clothing into neat squares before sliding into the water with a contented sigh.
"Much better. Do you know the mineral content creates an improvement in muscle recovery? I read the sign." He settled against the opposite wall, seemingly oblivious to or unconcerned with the usual Western taboos. "How's the meditation going?"
Reyn stared at him. When she'd bathed in that river and met Rast, he'd been too terrified to look at her. Venn still blushed when anyone remotely showed any bare skin. Yet here was Jarek, treating the situation with all the drama of a ledger entry.
"It was going well," she said, not pointing out the obvious.
"Ah. Sorry. I can be quiet." He lasted approximately three seconds. "Actually, no, I should probably tell you what I remembered about Valemark's undercity."
"Undercity?"
"The criminal element. Every merchant hub has one. I remembered while looking at our route that I used to... facilitate certain transactions here." He frowned, creating ripples as he shifted. "Legitimate ones, mostly. Import papers that might have been slightly forged. Tax documents that were creative interpretations of what was shipped."
"You were a criminal."
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"I was a businessman with flexible ethics," Jarek corrected. "There's a distinction. Criminals stab people in alleys. Businessmen stab them with paperwork."
"You stabbed Hendrick with actual steel."
"That was... an aberration. I think. Although I'm beginning to remember that I may have had a reputation for thoroughness when collecting debts." He sank lower in the water. "Look, I know I've been a bad man. I don't blame you for wanting to hit me."
"I haven't hit you."
"You did once. Pretty hard, they say. I can’t remember."
"I don't hit people for their pasts," Reyn said. "Only their presents. And usually only if they're actively trying to hurt someone."
"That's very evolved of you." Jarek was quiet for a moment, unusual enough that Reyn opened both eyes. He was staring at the ceiling, expression distant. "I think I had reasons. For the criminal things. Not good reasons, but... practical ones. Something… no… Someone..."
His face went through several interesting color changes before settling on something between revelation and panic.
"Oh no," he said.
"What?"
"I know why I don't care about..." He gestured vaguely at the general bathing situation. "Why this doesn't matter to me."
Reyn waited.
"I have a wife." The words came out in a rush, followed immediately by: "I HAVE A WIFE. How did I forget I HAVE A WIFE?"
"Calm down—"
"I can't calm down! I'm sitting in a bath with another woman! Wives have opinions about other women! And especially other women in baths!" He started to stand, realized that would make things worse, and sank back down looking miserable. "She's going to kill me. Actually kill me. She once threw a pot at my head for looking at a barmaid's ankles."
Reyn didn’t see the problem, but understood this was a Western thing. She tilted her head. "You were unconscious for days."
"You don't know... what was her name?! I don’t know my wife’s name! She once held a grudge against a baker for three years because he smiled too warmly when selling her bread." Jarek covered his face with his hands. "I'm a married criminal with memory problems who stabs farmers. This is bad."
The door burst open before Reyn could formulate a response to that. A young healer stood there, breathless and worried.
"Your companion is finished with the Trial," she said. "You should come quickly."
Reyn was out of the water and reaching for her clothes before the healer finished speaking. "Is she hurt?"
"She’s.... She's been at the shrine for an hour, and she won't stop crying."
Reyn dressed in record time, not bothering to dry properly. Behind her, she heard Jarek muttering, "A wife. How does someone forget a wife? She's going to use my skull as a flowerpot."
They found Venn exactly where the healer had said: kneeling before Helea's main shrine, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Her clothes were torn in places, muddy, but Reyn saw no blood. No obvious injuries.
"Venn?" Reyn knelt beside her, one hand hovering uncertain. Bormecians weren't trained for tears. "What happened?"
"I couldn't choose," Venn whispered, not looking up.
"Choose what?"
"Which life to save."
Reyn felt ice form in her stomach despite the lingering warmth from the bath. "The Trial made you choose? People died?"
"Yes. No." Venn finally looked up, eyes red and puffy. "I don't know. It was... it was a spell. An illusion. But it felt real. Everything felt real."
"What happened?" Jarek asked, having arrived fully dressed and slightly damp.
"I had to choose." Fresh tears spilled down Venn's cheeks. "A child, dying of poison. A king, dying of the same poison. Only enough antidote for one. The child was... she was so small. Scared. But the king, his advisors kept saying how many would die without him, how the kingdom would fall..."
"You save the child," Reyn said immediately.
"You save the king," Jarek said at the same moment.
They looked at each other.
"The king has power," Jarek explained with the tone of someone working through an equation. "Resources. He can prevent future deaths, maintain stability. One life to save thousands. For the future."
"What future will there be to save if we kill the future?" Reyn countered. "What kingdom deserves to stand if it's built on that choice?"
"But—"
"I couldn't choose!" Venn's voice cracked. "I tried everything. Tried to split the antidote, tried to find more, tried... The healers just watched. The child crying, the king gasping, and everyone watching me. Expecting me to decide who deserved to live."
She doubled over as if in physical pain. "I failed. When the spell ended, both were dead. Because I couldn't choose."
Reyn pulled the younger woman into an embrace, feeling helpless. This wasn't an enemy she could fight, a problem she could solve with steel or strength.
"The choosing was the test," she said quietly. "Not the choice itself."
"But I didn't choose!"
"I know."
Venn cried harder.
They stayed there until the tears finally slowed, until exhaustion won over anguish. Reyn helped Venn to her feet, supporting most of her weight.
"Come on," she said gently. "Rest now. The world will still need saving tomorrow."
"Will it?" Venn's voice was hollow. "What if I can't? What if when it matters, I can't choose again?"
"Then we'll help you," Jarek said with unexpected firmness. "At least Reyn will."
As they made their way to the guest quarters, Reyn caught Jarek's eye. He looked older somehow, the recovered memory of his wife adding lines to his face that hadn't been there before.
"We'll need to find her," Reyn said quietly. "After the beast."
"If she hasn't already murdered me for forgetting her," Jarek muttered. "I seem to remember that she holds grudges like some people hold precious gems. Carefully and forever."
But that was for another day.
Tonight, Venn needed rest. Tomorrow, they would hunt the beast that scholars called magnificent and survivors called traumatic. And somewhere after that, Jarek would face a reunion that might prove more dangerous than any monster. If they could figure out who his wife was.
The Temple settled into nighttime quiet around them, and Reyn found herself thinking about choices. The child or the king. The individual or the many. Venn had failed by refusing to choose, but was that truly failure? Or was it the most human response possible to an inhuman demand?
She didn't have answers. It was an impossible test.
I’ll never be a mage, Reyn figured and looked at Good Deeds propped up in a corner. Thank the ancestors.
What would you choose?
